


A Risk Worth Taking

by amy_broad



Category: Cricket RPF
Genre: Dinner, Double Dating, F/M, M/M, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 08:24:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1259545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amy_broad/pseuds/amy_broad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim Paine and his new girlfriend visit George Bailey and James Faulkner for dinner. But of course, no dinner date involving Australian cricketers ever goes as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Risk Worth Taking

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is for the beautiful Emalyn, omgpainey on Tumblr, because I've been meaning to write her something for what feels like forever! I hope she likes it, and I hope everyone else who's reading this likes it too.  
> If there's any grammatical or spelling errors then I'm sorry. I finished this off whilst watching the second ODI between England and the West Indies and I am currently on the floor, curled up in a ball shaking and near tears. These fucking cricketers ruin my life.   
> Also, I don't write a lot of fic involving the Aussies, so I'm really sorry if I got Tim, George and Jimmy's characterisations totally wrong. I tried my best!  
> The title is from the song Carpe Diem by You Me At Six.

“Em?” Tim Paine yells, banging on the bedroom door so hard it shakes. “Have you seen my hair gel anywhere?”   
It’s about 6:30 in the evening, and Tim and Emalyn are preparing to have dinner at a friend’s. Or rather, Emalyn is carefully applying the makeup Tim tells her she looks beautiful without, and the cricketer is locked outside of the bedroom in his purple polka dot, Hobart Hurricanes-themed boxers. So, a typical evening in their flat, then.   
“No, Tim, I haven’t,” laughs Emalyn. She leant closer to the mirror to apply mascara. When the wicketkeeper shakes the door once again with another thump, her hand wavers and the mascara paint the mirror with streaks of black. Giggling to herself, the blonde girl screws the lid back on the tube, deciding to clean the mirror some other time. “And you can stop trying to break the door down, we just got that put in last week.”   
“No need to be huffy,” moans Tim. “I’m just trying to look pretty.” He pouts, but Emalyn can’t even see him, so he gives up. It’s kind of cold in the hallway, and he wraps his arms around himself, hopping up and down crazily to try and keep warm.   
“Well I don’t want you to be prettier than me, babe,” Emalyn says with a smirk – one she’s lucky Tim can’t see. She opens the drawer of the dressing room table and brandishes a hairbrush. Attacking her mass of blonde hair with the comb, Emalyn coughs loudly to get her boyfriend’s attention.  
“Why do you care so much?” Tim shouts from the other side of the door.   
“I’m meeting your best friends…I want to make a good impression!” the blonde protests. She occupies herself with applying pink shimmery lipstick to her lips, rubbing them together to smudge the colour. Emalyn can hear Tim sigh – it’s ridiculously loud and overdramatic, as only he can manage – and chokes back a giggle.  
“Jimmy and Bails won’t care what you look like, Em, they just want to meet you.”  
Tim means what he says, but still – he’s nervous. When George rang him up inviting him and Emalyn over for dinner, Tim was convinced it was Jimmy’s idea of a piss take. Surely it’d just be awkward? Bearing in mind their past, and the fact that George and Jim were a couple, and bringing Tim’s girlfriend of six months along? It just sounded like a recipe for disaster. Still, he accepted the invitation gracefully; he hadn’t seen his two best friends in what seemed like forever, because of international duties and the Big Bash and all that shit.   
“Are you sure it’ll all be alright?” Emalyn asks. She’s still not sure. Tim had told her about his friends – maybe not everything, but enough – and she was totally comfortable with it being some sort of messed up double date, but still. It’s the first time she’s met any of her boyfriend’s teammates.   
“Absolutely positive,” Tim decides. He’s still rather cold, he’s realised, because he’s still stood outside of the door. The wicketkeeper rubs his legs to try and warm them up a bit, his teeth chattering. Even in Australia, in the summer, it’s freezing when you’re locked out of your bedroom and stood in a hallway with the air conditioning on full blast. Damn that stupid hair gel, Tim thinks, if only my hair was naturally perfect. Sadly, he realised long ago that he’s not blessed with the same blonde princess locks as Stuart Broad, and has been moping over it ever since.   
“I love you.” Emalyn’s voice wakes Tim from his hair nightmare, and he bangs on the door again with his fist.   
“In which case, can you open the door? I’m kinda still stuck out here in my boxers and its cold,” Tim complains. Even Emalyn has to laugh at this, so she wanders over to open the door and let her boyfriend in, only to be ambushed by the hyperactive blonde. Tim flings himself onto his girlfriend’s back, attacking her neck with his mouth as he ruffles her hair playfully. Emalyn staggers across the room with the weight of the wicketkeeper on her back, eventually collapsing onto the bed where he rolls off onto his side. There’s a cheeky grin from Tim, who winks in an almost terrifying manner before reaching for the hair gel on his nightstand.   
***  
“What if Tim’s bitch is one of those super attractive scary girls?” wonders George aloud. He’s not gonna lie: he’s nervous. When Tim told them he’d gotten himself a new girlfriend, the batsman had always wondered whether it was just because of his flourishing relationship with Jimmy that the keeper had felt pressurised to pull a new girl.   
“Bails, it’s Tim,” James Faulkner reassures him in his typical care-free manner. “There’s no fucking way he’ll have pulled someone that hot.” The bowler sighs, walking over to the corner of the room where George is stood. “He hasn’t got that many skills.”  
“Not as many as you, eh?” teases George, digging the Tasmanian in the ribs.   
“Well I bagged you, didn’t I?” James sings, flinging his arms out dramatically as if he’s asking the world to worship him. George is convinced that the daft blonde is about to get down on one knee, a-la-Flintoff, but luckily he’s thought better of it.   
“Oh Jim, you’re hopeless, come here,” George laughs, reaching out to grab the bowler’s skinny wrist. The blonde flinches away as if he’s been stung, a rather fake pout quivering on his lips. Jim crosses his arms defiantly.   
“What?” he mutters.   
“Don’t kick off; I just wanted to fix your collar,” says George, adjusting the crooked blue material with his fingers. James squeals, jumping up and down and waving his arms around. George grabs him to stop him from moving, but the bowler still wriggles in his arms like a kid who’s full of sugar. “And do this,” he whispers, placing a single kiss to Jim’s lips.   
“Aw that’s cute of you, Georgie.” Jim raises his eyebrows, but he leans in for another kiss, sliding his hands down the batsman’s back to rest on his bum.   
Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door – one they both recognise. Its three short taps, followed by a longer one, and then another two short ones. The knock they’d always used, whether it was to reassure the other in times of need, or to sneak into a hotel room to fuck under sheets which muffled the noise. The two cricketers spring apart at the sound and Jim looks down at his bare chest almost mournfully.   
“Shit. It’s Tim and I’m only half dressed!”   
“I’m sure he won’t mind, babe, he’s used to the full monty anyways,” laughs George, slapping Jim on the bum as he turns around, frantically searching for some clothes to put on. When he feels the cool skin of George’s hand on him, he spins back around to face the batsman.   
“Are you referring to my past, George?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows. George bursts out laughing, clutching his stomach as he struggles to control himself. Jim just stands, hand on hip, waiting for the batsman to compose himself.   
“There’s nothing sweeter, James,” says George eventually, opening the door with a smile.   
***  
“Welcome, Timmy and your rather beautiful girlfriend, to our shithole of a house.” Jimmy says, showing the couple inside.   
“It was nice until you moved in!” George declares, stepping out from behind Jim wearing a flour-dusted apron, his hair ruffled messily.   
“Bails, Jim, stop bitch-fighting! Good to see you guys again,” Tim replies. It’s true, it’s been far too long since he last saw his best friends. What with international duty for James and George, and captaining the Hobart Hurricanes for himself, they’ve not had a chance to catch up. And that disappoints them all. Back in the day where none of them had yet been called up for their country, they’d meet up for dinner every week, and go back to one of their places afterwards to continue the party. Tim misses it, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t, and he can’t keep the grin off his face as George and Jim joke about in their usual, cheerful manner.   
“You too, Tim!” Jim smiles, pulling his friend in for a hug. He steps back, noticing the blonde girl stood awkwardly next to him. “And who’s this?”   
“I’m Emalyn,” she says, holding out her hand for the bowler to shake. He does so with amused curiosity, and then presents a very unsubtle thumbs up to Tim, with a whisper of, “You’ve done good, mate.” Tim finds himself blushing, and is thankful when George speaks up.   
“You’re almost pretty enough to turn me straight,” the batsman remarks, cockily eying the blonde girl up and down. “George,” he says, bowing to her.   
“I’m never speaking to you again,” Jim huffs, folding his arms crossly. He turns away from the batsman, sticking his noise up in the air as if he’s better than the other. Tim laughs, memories of their previous banter suddenly flooding back to the forefront of his mind. Oh how he’s missed those two idiots.   
“Oh please, Jimmy, you’re the only one I need.” George reasons, coming up behind the bowler to wrap his arms around the man’s waist. Squeezing it gently, George attacks James’ neck with kisses, placing them down his collarbone and then back up to his chin. Jim purrs in response, lacing one hand in George’s mass of crazy, messy hair. They seem lost in their own world for a moment: George rubbing Jim’s hips and the bowler smirking into their kisses. Tim groans. That’s the bit about their friendship he never misses. Yeah, it’s cute and stuff. He’s totally happy for them both. But…ew? Really? When he’s stood right next to them? He thought they’d know better, after everything that had happened.   
“Em, I’m sorry they’re such soppy idiots, just come in,” he chuckles, kicking off his shoes and flopping down onto the sofa. He immediately props his feet up on the coffee table, kicking George’s ‘Knitting for Men’ magazine onto the floor. Tim gestures for Emalyn to follow him, though she seems unsurprisingly more nervous than her boyfriend.   
“Yeah that’s fine, make yourself comfortable in my house, Timothy.” Jim mutters to himself as he strolls across the room towards the kitchen.   
“Who bought this house, darling?” George calls after him, raising his eyebrows questioningly.   
“You’re the one who invited me to live here.”   
Jim has got a point, and George knows it. He remembers the first day the Tasmanian moved in: he’d bought pizza for the both of them, and Jimmy had ate about 90% of it. That was a good night. It was nice not to be so lonely in the evenings, nice to know you were going to wake up to someone’s smiling face each morning.   
“You’re lucky I love you, sunshine,” George remarks, chuckling to himself as he flops down next to Tim. The wicketkeeper just huffs, shoving his friend in the arm.   
“Can you two stop flirting? It’s bad enough at training!” he complains.   
“You used to love it, Tim. You’re just jealous you’re not our fuck buddy anymore!” teases Jim. He’s pretty good at saying things he knows will provoke a reaction, and this is one of them. Even George – who prides himself on his ability to stay calm in otherwise awkward situations – is fidgeting nervously with the buttons on his shirt. Tim just lets out a long groan, something which doesn’t help his cause. Jimmy smirks, tapping the side of his nose.   
“What’s this, Tim?” Emalyn asks curiously. She feels strangely out of things, what with the three guys sharing some sort of inside joke together. Little does she know.   
“Tim was the hottest bottom ever.” Jim laughs. He reaches over to slap Tim’s arse, and the wicketkeeper swats his hand away with a familiar smirk. Kind of like the one he used to smirk after giving Jim exactly what he craved, the bowler realises.   
“Is that so, babe?” Emalyn says. Tim looks decidedly uncomfortable in the current situation, and his girlfriend’s inquisition doesn’t do much for his pink cheeks. The fact that Jim is currently flashing him the most inappropriate of glances doesn’t help either. There’s an awkward cough from Emalyn, since Tim isn’t saying anything. He opens his mouth to speak, but just ends up gulping helplessly like some sort of incapable goldfish.   
“Let’s have dinner,” George suggests, much to the relief of nearly everyone in the room, with the exception of Jimmy, who’s always looking for trouble.   
***  
“That was beautiful, George, thank you very much,” Emalyn says, shaking the batsman’s hand.   
“You’re very welcome!” he smiles, secretly thanking god that the whole night had ran its course without any disasters.   
There’d been many moments where George was totally convinced everything was going to massively fuck up. First of all, when Jim had been talking about what a good bottom Tim was. Bit embarrassing for his new girlfriend, maybe? But Jim was right, George had admitted to himself. Tim was a good fuck, he’d moan at all of the right times, and his little hands were as talented in the bedroom as they were behind the stumps. Jim and George had enjoyed having him. But still, sat in their apartment having dinner with Tim and his girlfriend was decidedly weird.  
“Let’s go, babe,” Tim said, wrapping an arm around his girlfriend as they head for the door.  
“That’s right, get the fuck out of here! I can’t resist Georgie’s body any longer!” Jim yells from the kitchen, where he’s clearing up their plates. George hadn’t trusted him to come and see the couple out of the door – the Tasmanian was always causing trouble, especially when Tim was around. Yes, George loved it, and maybe he did find it that teeniest bit adorable, but it wasn’t half a nuisance.   
“Ew Jimmy, don’t mind me whilst I throw up. I just ate!” Tim complains, miming throwing up and sticking a finger down his throat. Emalyn giggles appreciatively and leans up to kiss the blonde wicketkeeper on the lips. Ah, the honeymoon phase, thinks George with a smile. He remembers when he and Jimmy were like that. Wouldn’t leave each other’s sight: always wanting to touch the other, cuddling and flirting, teasing and tickling. To be honest, he reflects, they’re still like that.   
“Timothy Paine you innocent piglet, take your pretty girlfriend home this instant!” Jim’s immature little demand reminds George exactly why his assumptions are always correct. He and Jim are still the childish boys in their first love that they always have been and always will be.   
“We’re going, we’re going,” Tim laughs, guiding Emalyn out of the door. Once his girlfriend is safely down the driveway, he turns to George with a smile. Miming some strange sort of sexual motion with his hands, he surveys George’s stance and smirks. “See you later, guys.”   
Glad to know nothing’s changed between us, George thinks to himself as he closes the door. Secretly, he’s just pleased he and Tim have stayed such good friends.   
***  
“She’s pretty,” sighed Jimmy, after Tim and Emalyn had left. The two guys were cuddled up on the sofa together, Jim’s head resting in George’s lap. The batsman trails a hand slowly down Jim’s side, rubbing his waist. He hums quietly as he tilts his header closer to the Tasmanian’s neck.   
“Am I not pretty enough for you, honey?” he whispers, pushing a tiny lock of blonde hair away from James’ ear. He gently nibbles on the shell of it, sliding his hand underneath the man’s shirt. Jim shivers at the touch of his cool skin.   
“Not at all!”  
“Fair enough,” George shrugs, taking in the words. He leaves it for a few moments, before leaning away from James and getting up. George points to the door, smirking. “Get out.”  
To George’s surprise, Jimmy leaps up and dashes across the room. The batsman watches his seemingly crazy friend with an amused smile before chasing wildly after him. The two cricketers race around the living room, yelling and screaming before George somehow manages to trap the Tasmanian in the corner. Jim puts his hands up, admitting defeat, but still laughing.   
“I take it back I take it back!” he giggles, shoving playfully at George’s stomach. “You’re gorgeous and I’d very happily rip that shirt of yours off right now, because you look even more ravishing without it.” He finishes the sort-of-apology with a cheeky wink and a slap of George’s bum.   
“Oh James, you flatter me,” sighs the batsman, but he lifts up his arms anyway, allowing Jim to pull his shirt over his head and discard it somewhere in the room.  
They settle back down again, Jimmy stroking gently down George’s bare stomach. “I love you, you know that?” the blonde says quietly. He places a kiss to the batsman’s soft lips and George almost purrs in response, sliding a hand into the blonde’s hair before reattaching their lips.   
“I know Jim, I know,” he replies, in between kisses. They kiss again for a few moments before Jimmy finally seems to register what George had said to him. The Tasmanian pulls back with a mock-offended grin plastered all over his face.   
“Is that it? Do you not love me as well?”  
George just laughs, cupping Jim’s chin in his hands. “Definitely not, you disgusting excuse for a human being.” The bowler swats George’s hands away from his face, sticking his tongue out. George just laughs again, pressing a kiss to the man’s forehead.  
“I’m glad, Bails,” Jimmy smiles, grabbing the batsman’s hand and twisting their fingers together.   
***  
“Enjoy tonight?” Tim asks, slipping an arm around his girlfriend. It’s a cool night in Brisbane – not too cool that a short walk isn’t pleasant, however – and the sky is clear and sprinkled with glittery stars. A light breeze ruffles the layers of Emalyn’s floral dress, blowing her blonde hair around her face.   
“It was…eventful” the blonde replies, resting her head on the wicketkeeper’s shoulder. They pause for a moment; Tim glances out across the park and finally up at the sky. A smile spreads across his face as Emalyn balances on her tiptoes to kiss his prickly jaw. “George and Jimmy are really cute together, though.”  
“Yeah, I’m really happy for them,” Tim admits with a shrug. “They thought it’d be a big deal, but it isn’t.” He squeezes his girlfriend’s shoulder gently, casting his mind back to the moment George and Jim told him they were together. Tim struggles to hold back a laugh as he remembers how awkward it was: George’s typical nervous stuttering and Jim’s anxious overconfidence. He sighs. His best friends are such idiots.  
“Why would it be a big deal?” Emalyn asks, glancing up at her boyfriend with curiosity.   
“…I used to fuck around with them, yeah? When we were in hotels with shit all to do. Before I met you, of course.” Tim begins. He’s smiling remembering those nights, where they’d mess around as much as they liked, not afraid to moan their pleasures aloud. “And then, when they realised they had…um….feelings…for each other…they thought I’d be pissed off.” He’s dragged back into the memory, for a moment. It was good sex – they all knew what they wanted and how to get it, and it never altered their relationship as friends. That kind of guiltless, strings-free sex that all men craved. They’d had everything they wanted. If he’d ever craved anything, he knew George and Jim could ‘give him a hand’, as weird as that sounded. It was nice to go back to their hotel, knowing his two best friends would be waiting with a bottle of lube and a takeaway pizza. A weird friendship, but a good one by any means.   
Tim always knew that there was something different between George and Jim. Something....special…something he’d never quite gotten. And it’d all made sense when they’d told him. Sure, he’d been disappointed that their little three-way affair was over – it was something he’d looked forward to every night. But mainly, he was pleased for his best friends. Was happy the right word? Yes. Happy.   
Emalyn waits, gesturing for Tim to carry on with his story. But for a moment, he’s lost in the memory and he happily lets it devour him. The blonde keeper can even smell the musky scent of their hotel room, mixed with the smell of sex and the leftover takeaways they’d always pig out on afterwards. He can picture, clear as day, the smile that lingering on George’s face after he came. Fuck it, he can even feel the customary slap Jim would place to his arse after he pulled out with a groan. He’d by lying if he said he didn’t miss those times. But he’s got Emalyn now, and as he looks down at her smiling, hopeful face, he realises how lucky he is. Tim places a soft kiss to her forehead, entwining their fingers.   
“But it doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve got you.”


End file.
